


Covet

by Amaranthine_Eve



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Blood and Gore, Bullying, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark!Thomas Hewitt, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jealousy, Killing, Luda Ships It, Mental Instability, Mutual Pining, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Slow Burn, Stalking, Torture, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaranthine_Eve/pseuds/Amaranthine_Eve
Summary: Armed with a note from her deceased Grandmother and a heart full of hope, Dahlia Moon goes down to Texas expecting to live a quiet, peaceful life with the Hewitt's. Too bad they're cannibals, and trouble seems to always be at their front door.
Relationships: Leatherface | Thomas Brown Hewitt/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place one month after the events of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning."  
> I own nothing except my OC.

_Her trembling hand clutched Luda Mae’s dress tightly,_

_“Please look after her…” she gasped weakly._

_“I promise.”_

_~_

**_August , 1969_ **

Dahlia breathed in the fresh, crisp air of Travis County, Texas. It had taken her 17 years to get back to the one place she truly called home. Only to find out that the once bustling little town from her childhood was now a deserted wasteland except for the few locals that still lingered around. Anxious, the young woman grabbed the handle of her suitcase and began her journey to the end of the main drag; the bus had dropped her off at the opposite end of the road, refusing to go any further even if it was only a few miles. She prayed that she’d make it to her destination before dark since it was already late afternoon. 

As she walked, she thought of how her life had played out so far.

She had been born to abusive and neglectful parents, they took pleasure in hitting her and emotionally torturing her. She learned by age 4 that life was unfair. In middle school she was bullied by the other students mercilessly for her small stature and shyness. As she aged, life at home became worse. Slaps and halfhearted punches turned into whippings with leather belts and random heavy objects often became projectiles. Her parents put out their cigarettes on her skin, cut her up just to see her bleed, and would beat her to the point of unconsciousness if she ever tried to stand up for herself or run away. They always found her. She learned to keep her mouth shut, to not speak unless spoken too. Her only saving grace was the ticket that would come in the mail for her every year. 

Irene Moon always sent her a plane ticket to come to Texas every summer to stay for 2 weeks. Dahlia would pack up her stuff and fly down to see her beloved Grandmother, eager to leave her oppressive life behind, if only for a little bit. The bus would drop her off a few blocks away from the older woman’s cozy home which was nestled in a thicket of trees on the edge of town. She always felt safe with her Grandmother, and longed to stay with her but fear of her parents always made her go back to California. 

When she turned nine, Irene passed away from a heart attack and Dahlia, in her uncontrollable grief, cried and screamed at her parents for not allowing her to attend the funeral. That little stunt caused her to get beat so bad, that when she woke up two weeks later, she was in the hospital. Apparently her mother had come after her with a knife and cut her face to the point of needing stitches. The police report said that she had come running out of the house screaming, her hands holding the long gash, trying to stop the bleeding before she passed out on the street. 

Her parents lost custody of her, and after she healed up in the hospital, she was sent to live with a distant cousin, who also beat her. High school came around and everything was pretty much the same, except the bullying at school became physical. She would get shoved into lockers and left until someone decided to let her out, the girls would stick notes on her back, calling her a freak or a whore; the boys tripped or smacked her in the hallways, and teachers would turn a blind eye, not caring enough to do anything. 

The source for her bullying was the grisly scar her mother gave her, it began at the top left of her forehead, running diagonally down between her eyes and over her nose bridge, down the right side of her cheek until it ended below her collarbone. It was ugly, raised with tough skin, the scar being a shade darker than her already pale complexion. She tried to cover it up with makeup, but it didn't work. 

At eighteen she left her cousins house, bumming it out on the street for a couple of years and eventually got a job at a small diner a few cities away. She managed to save enough for a small apartment, it wasn’t much but it was hers. Dahlia entertained the thought about going to college but lacked the money and the courage to sign up. What if it was like high school? What could she even do with a college degree? 

She never put thought into her future since she always had something going on. Her answer came to her in the mail one evening, a few days after she turned 25. It was a letter from a random attorneys office, inside the manila folder was a receipt of her grandmothers property that had been sold to a realtor along with a check, some money for a plane ticket, and a single note. For once, since Irene’s passing, Dahlia felt excited. 

She worked at the diner for the rest of the year and then quit, broke her lease with the apartment owner, sold most of her meager belongings to afford the bus fare to the airport and took off with a one-way ticket to Texas. A single note clutched in her small hands.

  
  


**_‘To my dearest Dahlia,_ **

**_By the time you get this note, I have long since passed. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you from your parents, that would be the one thing I regret most in my life. Please understand that I waited until your 25th birthday to have this sent to you because I knew that my daughter wouldn’t have let you leave the house at 18, so I arranged for a fake will to go to her and the real one to go to you. I have sold my property to a realtor for a decent price and willed all of the money to you in the form of a check. You may spend it however you wish, but there is something I must tell you before that happens. Remember Miss Luda? The owner of the general store and gas station at the end of the main road? If you aren’t happy with how life is now, or need a place to go, she’d be more than willing to take you in. In her home, you will never get beaten or abused again, I swear it. It’ll be the peace and quiet you’ve always yearned for and Luda is so full of love, you two would get along so well. But the choice is yours, whatever you choose to do with your life please remember that I’m always there with you in spirit and that I love you to the moon and back. Stay safe._ **

**_Grandma.’_ **

~

It was near dusk when she finally got to the store. While she vaguely remembered it being a lively place where all of the locals flocked too, it was now a sad, derelict building. She breathed in and bit her lip in trepidation. What if Luda Mae wasn’t alive anymore? What if she didn’t remember her grandmother and turned her away?

‘Welp, there’s only one way to find out I guess.’ She thought to herself. 

Dahlia went up to the door and carefully pulled it open. She stepped inside and looked around, not seeing anyone at the counter. Nervously, she closed the door behind her and walked to the display case by the register and snuck a peak at it, only finding some random cuts of meat and a few pieces of beef jerky. Not finding that particularly appealing, she was about to call out for someone when a gruff voice said,

“The hell are you doin’?” 

Squeaking, the young woman whirled around and came face to face with an older man. He was wearing a sheriff's uniform and was impatiently tapping the floor with a boot clad foot. He had dark blue eyes and a severe frown, a graying 5 o’ clock shadow forming on his chin, the cowboy hat covered his hair but she guessed it was the same salt and pepper color like his eyebrows. Gulping, Dahlia answered in a soft voice,

“I-is Miss Luda Mae Hewitt here?” 

The man’s eyes narrowed and she shivered when his eyes swept over her form before staring her hard in the eyes, distrust clearly evident. “Who’s askin’?” 

Obviously intimidated, she held out her grandmothers note and let the sheriff read it over. She watched as a myriad of expressions passed over his face. Anger, surprise, confusion and finally skepticism. His eyebrows raised and he glared at her once again.

“Lemme go make a quick call, Luda ain't in today. You stay right here, little girl.” 

She watched as the sheriff sauntered over to the phone behind the polished wood counter. He picked up the phone and began dialing, not wanting to look like she was eavesdropping she wandered around the store, remembering a few choice pieces of decor. It was strange, she used to make a few trips to this store when she was with her grandmother, but for the life of her couldn’t remember much about it. Maybe she was knocked in the head one too many times. As she was looking around, she didn't notice hard blue eyes staring at her.

~

“Hello?”

“Monty, give the phone to Luda.”

“She’s busy prepping dinner, she can call you la-“

“No! This is important!” Charlie hissed, glancing at the young woman walking around the store. She was a pretty little thing, probably 5 '3 with large tits, wide hips and a plump ass; he was upset that he couldn’t have any fun with her if her letter turned out to be true. Although, the nasty scar on her face and sad eyes told him that’s this filly had a rough life. Her hair was long, pitch black and ended at her waist, her skin was pale and blemish free, she had a heart shaped face and a cute little nose, full pink lips and the biggest eyes he’d ever seen. They were a startling shade of emerald, offset by thick, dark lashes and full eyebrows. The girl reminded him of a little doll.

“Hello?”

“Luda,” He began. “What the hell did you do?!”

“What are you talkin’ about?” 

“There’s a young woman here lookin’ for you. She gave me a note and it said that you would take ‘er in or sumthin’.” He waited for a response but all he got was a small gasp.

“Luda?”

“Charlie,” She sounded breathless. “Charlie, bring her here. I’ll explain everything later but please bring her here _now_ .” She all but demanded before hanging up. Grumbling, the sheriff sighed and placed the phone back in the cradle. This _really_ wasn’t the time to be causing a ruckus. It had been about a month since his family had turned to eating flesh and while he didnt have any qualms about it, he knew Luda still wasn’t comfortable; but she was warming up to the idea since it meant that they wouldn’t go hungry. Monty was in a slight daze, ever since his legs were chopped off but he didn't deny the taste of human meat when he ate. And Thomas, well, the boy ate anything. He was hesitant at in the beginning, but Luda’s expertise at cooking quickly changed his mind. Like he told his nephew, ‘meat is meat and bone is bone.’

He took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair; fine, he’d deliver the girl to Luda and wait for an explanation and if he didnt like it, he’d just kill the bitch. As he walked towards her, he fleetingly thought about his nephew. If they disposed of the girl, he’d probably give her to Tommy to have some fun before they offed her. His 30th birthday had just passed and Charlie had a feeling that he was beginning to grow bored of the rides outta town for some pussy. He couldn’t blame his nephew though, the old hags that walked the streets were always loose and dry. Yes, if they got rid of the girl, Tommy could have her for a bit; she’d be an excellent birthday present.

“C’mon girl, lets go.” He barked, lips forming into a sinister grin when she jumped. 

“W-where?”

Charlie motioned for her to go outside, “I’m takin’ ya to see Luda, she’s expectin’ you.” He locked up the store and rounded the building to the back, gesturing to the stolen police car that sat under a tree. Dahlia hurried along, not wanting to provoke the man. He hopped in the car and waited for her slide in, grinning nastily when she sat in the back. Charlie started the car and stomped on the gas, the car lurched forward and she whined as her head snapped back painfully. Cackling, he veered onto the road and let off the gas, looking in the rear view mirror with a smirk. Briefly, Dahlia wondered what she had gotten into.


	2. Chapter 2

_“My Thomas is so misunderstood, dear.”_

_“Why? I don’t think he’s that bad.”_

_“I’m glad to hear it.” She smiled gently._

_~_

  
  


Luda Mae breathed in and out steadily and put the phone down after receiving the call from Charlie. She felt so many emotions and questions rush her all at once. Surprise, happiness, anxiety, nervousness and finally doubt. Why now? Why had it taken Dahlia so long to come? What would they do with her around? The current state of affairs within the Hewitt family was a jumbled mess. She was still trying to get over what happened the past month; while it ensured that they wouldn’t go hungry, bringing a new person into this would make getting food a bit more difficult. She was also worried about the sudden ‘disappearances’ of the four teenagers and the two bikers. What if people were out looking for them and came sniffing around? How would her family handle that?

Sensing a pricking sensation at her back, she turned around to find her brother eyeing her with a half-lidded stare.

“What’s got you in a tizzy?” Monty snapped, rolling up to her. She leaned heavily against the wooden counter for support, back hunching slightly.

“You remember Irene?”

“I do.”

“I made a promise to her on her deathbed,” She began nervously.

“Which was?”

“To take care of her granddaughter when she passed-“

“Oh fer fucks sake!” Monty gasped, spittle flying out of his mouth. His weary hands came up to his mouth in a rush, covering the sounds of his harsh coughing. He beat on his chest lightly a few times and peered up from his thick glasses,

“It's hard enough to feed ourselves, now we gotta feed some bitch too?!”

“Monty! Don’t you dare call her that again!” Luda snarled. She slapped the washcloth that was on her shoulder onto the counter top with more force than necessary causing her brother to flinch back. Scoffing, Luda was half tempted to smack him upside the head as well but decided against it, Monty _was_ healing up after all. 

She walked out of the kitchen, heading straight for the stairs. She calculated the distance from the store to the house was about twenty minutes so she decided that she had enough time to air out the empty room next to Thomas’. For a brief moment, she paused and listened to Monty cursing at her from below, causing her to scoff. Whether the family liked it or not, the girl was going to stay. She supposed that if things within the house ever reached a breaking point, Dahlia could live somewhere else. Henrietta’s trailer was a thought but it quickly disappeared; Irene’s granddaughter would _not_ be living in such terrible conditions. Hell, she wouldn’t even let Thomas live there, much to Henrietta’s annoyance. 

Continuing up the stairs, she headed down the hall, quickly making a stop at the storage closet and grabbed a fresh set of sheets for the bed and some room spray. She made it down the hallway, past her son's room and balanced everything on one hand. Opening the door, she coughed instantly, it was incredibly musty and stale from years of neglect. Luda Mae couldn't for the life of her remember the last time she had been it.

She felt around the wall for the light switch before flipping it on and looked around. It was a fair size, the walls were painted a stark white, the closest was on the left wall, in the middle was the queen sized bed with a simple wooden frame, a nightstand and a lamp next to it, on the right wall was a line of windows and a little bench seat, partially covered by thick grey curtains. 

In the corner next to the windows was an antique armoire and on the wall with the light switch sat a chest of drawers underneath, which was opposite the bed. Hastily, she gathered the sheets and blankets on the bed and tossed them on the floor. After she beat the dust from the mattress, she placed the fresh, crisp sheets on the bed and hurried out to dump the dirty ones in the laundry chute. After that, she opened the windows and beat the curtains, swept, spayed and wiped down the room and the furniture. Just as she was heading out of the room to grab a few pillows, she heard the front door slam loudly.

Heart in her throat, she shuffled her way down the first flight of stairs. Getting to the first landing facing the door and seeing no one there, she felt confused. Was she so anxious to see Dahlia that she imagined it? Heavy, thudding footsteps answered her question.

“Thomas!” 

Her son came to a stop at the foot of the stairs, he had come from the kitchen, an insane coppery stench emanating from his hulking form. Luda analyzed him from head to foot, making sure he was back in one piece. Charlie had somehow managed to find a job for him two towns over at _another_ slaughterhouse and according to Monty, today marked his third week there. He stood by the banister, looking up at her with warm brown eyes, curiosity gleamed in them. It was strange looking down at her son, this behemoth of a man. He was at least a good six and a half feet tall and wider than anyone she’d ever met. And while he was down right terrifying to others, to her, he would always be her little boy. A sweet, gentle, _misunderstood_ boy who only wanted to be accepted by his peers. 

She watched as he fiddled with the cord behind his back that kept the blood soaked apron in place. Brown eyes flickered with annoyance when the knot wouldn’t budge. He snarled, which caused Luda Mae to smile sympathetically and walk down the stairs to help him.

“Now, now, child. Let me do it.” She said gently. 

He quickly turned around and showed her the large expanse of his muscular back, his long, beefy fingers struggling to undo the cord. She smacked them away with a small chuckle, asking him how his day went. Thomas answered with a soft rumble as his shoulders shrugged. He slouched forwards a bit, indicating just how tired he felt and for a few moments Luda Mae resisted the urge to rub his back and coo to him. He had gotten up at the crack of dawn and had only just made it back. She clicked her tongue and reminded herself to ask Charlie about maybe letting Thomas drive to work.

“There,” she said. “All done. Why don’t you go and take a hot shower.” 

He answered her with a pleased rumble and a nod of thanks, eyes crinkling as he smiled under his mask. With a pause, he lowered it and leaned down to give Luda a kiss on the cheek and then made his way up the stairs, only stopping when she called to him, a far away look in her eyes.

“Thomas, dear. We’re going to have a guest over in a bit. She’ll be staying with us.” 

Blinking, he turned around and faced his mother, head cocking to the side questioningly. A guest?

“Her name is Dahlia, I promised her grandmother that I’d take care of her after she passed. She’ll be living here from now on and I expect you to treat her kindly. After she heads to bed, I’ll explain everything tomorrow.” 

Thomas felt his lip curl and narrowed his eyes at her, distrust clearly evident. 

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure she won’t bother you or call you names.” His mother insisted. He let out a harsh scoff and sent her a look that clearly said, _‘we’ll see about that.’_

“Go wash up, hopefully by the time you’re out, they’ll be here.” Luda ordered, walking down the hallway, dismissing him.

~

After having the one-sided conversation with his mother, he went upstairs to his room and hunted around for another - _cleaner-_ leather mask that covered the bottom half of his face. Then he proceeded to take a shower, not really in the mood for a bath. He used the sponge and soap to slough off the sweat, grime and blood from his body, watching the dirty red water swirl down the drain. Then he lathered up some shampoo and massaged his scalp with a pleased groan, taking the time to wash the blood and dirt from his hair.

Once he was done, he stepped out and proceeded to slip into a black pair of sleeping pants and a burgundy long sleeve that clung tightly to his muscles. After drying his hair with a towel and running a comb through it a few times, he went downstairs while tying his mask, hearing Monty and his mother talk about their guest. He didn’t really think much of the situation, it was pretty simple to him. If they didn't like the girl or if she had any objections to their lifestyle, he’d just kill her and be done with it. Of course, he was slightly worried about _how_ they would keep the killing to a minimum with her wandering around but he was positive they would figure it out. 

He sighed and wandered over to the living room, choosing to stand by the window. After a few minutes ticked by, he admitted that he was feeling a _tiny_ bit nervous, only because he knew that if the girl insulted him in anyway, he’d be sorely tempted to kill her on the spot. And his mother would probably not like that. Normally he wouldn’t react so violently, but after the events that happened the past month, he personally felt like he didn't _have_ to put up with any sort of bullying or name calling anymore. 

Why sit there and be insulted when he could just reach over and crush windpipes with his large hands and end lives. He wouldn’t dare kill anyone at his new job though, at least not yet. His family still needed the money, and since Uncle Monty’s towing business wasn’t an option anymore, Thomas still had to work until Uncle Charlie’s pension kicked in.

The pleasant aroma of potatoes and carrots being boiled in a meaty stew wafted over to him from the kitchen and his eyes fluttered at the thought of the fresh meat he butchered just yesterday, sliding down his throat and warming his stomach. It had been a cocky young woman that had rolled up to the house in a nice car, rudely demanding directions out of Travis County. Charlie had given her a bored stare and knocked her out right on the porch, demanding him to retrieve the body and take it down to the basement. Luckily for the woman, Thomas was too lazy to mess around with putting her on a hook and waking her up, so he merely set the body on his butchers block and huffed out a harsh breath as the cleaver in his hand made a forceful arc down and embedded itself into her soft flesh before hitting wood. Unfazed, he grabbed the head and spent a good hour skinning it, envious of the smooth texture. When that was done, he set about chopping up the body into bits for the next meal and then headed to bed.

He was glad his mother was cooking this evening, he absolutely _detested_ Uncle Charlie’s, he only ate the food because he didn't want anything to go to waste and even then, he gulped it down quickly. With a resigned sigh and a long stare out into the night, he moved away from the windows and wandered into the kitchen hoping to snag a quick snack before dinner. He entered and watched his mother flutter about, muttering under her breath as her blue eyes flickered between various pots on the stove. He stole a glance at the table and eyeballed the steaming plate of sweet dinner rolls that sat on the counter. Keeping an eye on his mother’s back, he crept towards them, a long arm reaching out to swipe one when,

“Don’t even think about it, boy.” She said with a barely concealed chuckle. Thomas visibly deflated, and let out a low grumble stating his displeasure. Luda Mae turned and smiled placatingly at her son as she motioned for him to open the oven while her hands were full with the famous Hewitt (soon-to-be) baked macaroni casserole. He reached for the baking dish and swiftly placed it into the oven quickly, reliving his mother of the task. 

“Thank you, dear. I know you’re hungry but we have to wait until your Uncle comes home.” A quick glance at the clock had her worried, they should’ve arrived at the house over 15 minutes ago, where could they possibly be?


End file.
